


Coffee Run

by Peoasp



Category: Homestuck
Genre: Alternate Universe - Coffee Shops & Cafés, Alternate Universe - Diners, F/F, Past Abuse, eridan and aradia are there too? i am just not sure how important they will be!, rated m for damaras mouth
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-04-29
Updated: 2017-09-18
Packaged: 2018-06-05 04:56:39
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 4,399
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6690559
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Peoasp/pseuds/Peoasp
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Meulin comes in every day to order overly complex drink. Damara doesn't care enough to make it right, until she does.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

There’s a teenager leaning on the counter judging Damara. She can feel his eyes crawl over her skin. Filthy, stupid rich kid. Her greasy hair and eyeliner painted over the smudged mess of yesterday’s makeup is heroin chic, not a sloppy mess. If he is too stupid to realize this, she does not care.

“I w-want a grande cold brew-w concentrate, no w-water, no ice. Is that simple enough to for you to understand?” the idiot says, stuttering faintly. His face is oily. And he is more stupid than she thought.

“Cold brew. Yes,” she says, playing up her accent so that stuttering idiot wrinkles his nose at her. But he says nothing else as she marks his cup and rings up his coffee, “Three dollar, thirty five. You will pay extra? I fingered myself with the hands that will make your coffee.”

“Sure, w-whatewer. Say it in English next time. W-we’re in America, not China,” He says while he pays. This boy does not like foreigners. That, and the lack of a tip, justifies whatever Damara says to him. 

"Name?" 

“Eridan. With an E.” She spells it A-I-R-E-E-D-E-N, In messy block letters.

Damara nods thoughtfully, deciding what to write in kanji around his name. People thought it was “cute” as long as she threw in some stars. ‘Your rings are erotic,’ she writes, ‘Please shove them up my ass. One by one.’ It’s not the best taunt she’s thought of, but it makes her smile as she pours his drink.

Once his drink is done, Damara turns back to the counter. Ten minutes till Aradia gets off break and she only has to mix the drinks. Aireeden sputters at his name and Damara hopes he comes back again because the way his face screws up has her grinning.

There’s a woman and her son looking at the baked goods display now, so Damara grabs the cake pop the boy- probably a freshman- is eyeing and steps up to the counter. His hopeful look sinks when she pops the treat into her mouth. It was the last cake pop. She is not sure what this is revenge for yet, but something will happen. It always does.

‘Cover me in whipped cream. Suckle it off my clit, Damara writes on the frowning boy’s cup. He cannot read it, and she does not mean it. And if someone translates her messages it doesn’t matter whose cup it is on, she will go to prison. It would be marginally worse than working here. Damara calls the order and checks the clock again.

The kittybitch walked in seven minutes before Aradia would get off break.

Damara did not know much about Meulin. She came in often, never shut up even though Damara never listened, and didn’t complain when Damara fucked up her orders. Meulin was too annoying for Damara to like, but seeing how badly she could butcher her drink was a pleasant change of pace. And even when she spoke English, none of her comments seemed to penetrate Meulin’s fangirl haze.

Heh.

Penetrate.

“Dameowra! Ohemgee, there is so much I need to tell you! I litterally couldn’t breathe last night when I saw the new episode it was like. Feelmaggeon!” Meulin’s voice is loud. Her cat puns piss you off. The idiot from earlier glares at her, but the Starbucks is nearly empty and he’s the only one who cares.

“Order.” Damara’s expression is hostile and her tone acid, but Meulin doesn’t seem to care.

“Grande strawberries and creme frappucchino! With two and a half pumps vanilla, one pump raspberry, and one pump classic syrup purrlease!” Since there’s no one behind her in line, she’s folded her arms on the counter and already started talking again. “Tumblr called it the fruity pebbles frappurrccino! Strawberries and cream is my fafurite thing ever and there are so many pawsibilities with it!”

“Take off your shirt. I will suck on your pebbled nipples instead.” Damara says in plain English, as she turns away to grab a pen. She faces Meulin again and punches in her order. “Four eighty-two.”  
Meulin hands her a five, Damara keeps the change, and Meulin stuffs a handful of ones in the tip jar. A spark of affection nearly ignites in Damara’s cold, envy-green heart and she adds a little bit of condescending sneer to her frown to compensate.

“It was the most amazing thing I efur saw.” Meulin starts as Damara grabs a random cup and prepares an espresso shot. “The writers are definkitty just saying Destiel will nefur be canon. The things Dean’s saying to him! Dameowra, efurry word out of his mouth is a love confession! They’re canon, Dameowra. Beautiful canon. And the-” Damara stops listening after Meulin’s voices pitches up into fangirl mode. She focuses on adding too many pumps of the wrong kinds of syrup.

“Stop squealing. Come behind the counter and use your cat tongue on my genitals. I want to bleed from the roughness.” She replies as she foams the milk. As always, Meulin doesn’t seem to be bothered. The unpleasant conversation goes on for a while.

“Hey, cat ears,” Earidane was back, and tapping on Meulin’s shoulder. Or rather, trying to tap on Meulin’s shoulder but getting apprehended by her mane of dark hair. He kept talking as Meulin turned to face him. “Can you quiet dow-wn? Some people here are tryin’ to enjoy their coffee in peace, without you freakin’ out about tw-wo guys lookin’ at each other.”

“Oh but it’s so much more than that! I’ve been watching Supurrnatural for years and there’s so many reasons they’re purrfect for each other. The chemeowstry between them is purrfection! And it’s so-o-o-o pawbvious they’re pining for each other. Castiel gave up heaven for Dean! He chose Dean ofur his family, and his home, and God and ohhh emmm geeee have you seen the cursed or not scene?”

“Uh- w-what- no? Stop-”

“What. Oh my God. You need to hear about this! There’s one point when Dean tells Cas ‘I’d rather have you, cursed or not.’ And it was just- so perf- They were- My purrecious babies are so in love! Dean loves Cas for efurrything about him, and Cas would follow Dean anywhere, and they’re just so purrfect and so gay and I’m- I’m-”

“W-what the fuck are you-”

Damara put a hand on his shoulder. “Ear-dog. Go drink your coffee.”

She had come around the counter to loom behind him and despite the few inches of height difference, it was effective. Damara had the aura of someone who could snap your neck and she was clicking her nails on the register like chipped, rust red claws.

“Ear do- My name is Eridan you stupid-” Damara concentrated all her hatred for this job, the customers, the coffee burns, and narcissistic, racist, limp-dicked, born-rich brats into a death glare. She tilted her chin up and looked Egg Danny in the eye.

“If you stay I will put my hair pins through your glasses. Leave.”

He shut up and walked straight out of the Starbucks, flustered and looking the slightest bit terrified. Damara was sure he’d call the manager later.

“Huh. I guess he’s not a shippurr.” Damara feels a twinge of something she does not like as Meulin’s smile slips off her face.

“When men fuck it makes him horny. He is scared of homosexuality.” Damara said over her shoulder as she went back behind the register.

When Meulin giggles her smile is small and she covers it with her hand. “No wonder he wears such fancy clothes! I would too if I was trapped in the closet.”

Damara shakes her head in a way that is absolutely not the slightest bit amused and tries to sink back into her bitterness. Unfortunately, the Egg Danny incident and Meulin’s tiny smile won’t let her. In her frustration she sets the macchiato down a too harshly and a third of it sloshes out over the rim.

Damara hisses and pulls her scalded hand away. “Dammit. Stupid bitch coffee.” She feels faintly embarrassed for calling coffee that, but it’s not like anyone can understand her.

“Oh my God! Are you okay?” Meulin’s already gotten a handful of napkins to wipe up the spill. “How bad is the burn? Can you move your hand?”

She reaches out to touch Damara’s hand, and pulls it away before she gets too close. Damara shrugs. “I’m fine. I will make another coffee.” She pauses. “What was your drink?”

“I,” Meulin draws out the ‘I’, thinking, “Don’t know. My meowmory is kinda messy. Give me whatefur you like?” Meulin says, like that wasn’t what Damara had been doing for weeks. So Damara grabs and grande cup and fills it to the top with whipped cream. She throws on some drizzle and sticks a straw into it.

“Here,” She says, keeping her reply short so Meulin doesn’t mistake this for kindness.

“Thanks! Sorry fur the trouble.” she says, looking down and smiling.

Damara raises a dark eyebrow at her. She’s never seen Meulin sheepish. She’s thinking about it as Meulin leaves and Damara picks up the half-full coffee. It’s still warm, and Damara side eyes it. She could use some caffeine.

When Aradia comes out of the break room she sees Damara mopping up spilled coffee from the floor. Damara’s muttering something about sugary vomit coffee and her normal glare is in place, but there’s a thoughtful look behind it. Aradia wonders what happened during her break and makes a note to grill her after work.

When Damara gets home, carrying a better version of the mocha-caramel macchiato she had made earlier, she thinks back to what Aradia had said when the she had trapped Damara after closing. And then about the way Meulin had giggled after Eggnog left. Damara took a deep breath, setting her coffee down next to old pictures from high school. Maybe… maybe one friend wouldn’t hurt. It had been a long time since she’d done anything more fun than putting out cigarettes on Meenah’s picture.

Which wasn’t that fun anyways. She didn’t care what happened to the bakery bitch anymore. Meenah was far away and probably in the same lonely situation as Damara, only richer. And less unhappy, because Meenah had always only wanted attention. She had never wanted friends, or been a nice person.

Not like Damara. She had been quiet, and kind, and fiercely loyal. And stupid. A stupid, stupid, stupid little baby girl who could see her own boyfriend's infidelity until the whole school knew about it. Stupid, stupid, stupid.

Damara gets out her old yearbook and flips through it. All of Meenah's pictures have been clawed out. Damara herself is always standing away from the others, shoulders hunched and a sneer stretching her blood red lips. Sometimes Rufioh is looking at her, afraid. Or Meenah is glaring. There one where Damara almost looks happy- the anime club photo, where she's sandwiched between Dirk, a robotics nerd from another school, and Meulin, of all people. 

Dirk had been fun- his school was small, so he would come over to hers for clubs. They had talked once or twice about how shitty boys could be, while smoking behind the science lab. Dirk talked about himself. Damara had felt sorry for him. She still did. He had been nice. 

Meulin, on the other hand, is always at her old boyfriend-turned-best friend’s side. She’s looks as sweet as she does now, but there’s something in the wideness of her eyes. Something in the stiffness of her smile, the way her arm is tense and leaden where the friend- his name was Kurloz, Damara remembers- touches it.

Damara stares at the picture. There is a strange expression on her face. Glazed. Empty. Her shoulders are slumped. She is very pretty, with "natural" make up and clothes perfectly balancing trendy and nerdy, but the way she holds herself is too stiff and doll-like.

In hindsight, Kurloz had been in a cult. He’d dealt drugs that even Damara avoided. It was obvious that he was dangerous, and Meulin had been living with him until his arrest had made the paper.

Damara felt slightly sick.

She had been in a similar place. And she had known how fucked up Kurloz’s cult was.

But it had been more obvious when it was happening to her. Meenah taunted and tormented Damara in the school’s hallways and parking lot. They had never interacted before and Damara had cried in class many times before she snapped. And Damara had known it was happening.

Meulin wouldn’t have. Or she wouldn’t have said anything if she had. Kurloz was the only person close to her and probably had been the biggest influence in her life- she would have loved him too much to accuse him of anything.

Damara realized she couldn't remember a change in the way Meulin acted, either. She had just kept talking about shipping. Forgiving too easily. Avoiding serious subjects, when someone could stand her long enough to try to talk about them. Whatever had happened left no signs to be noticed.

Damara stared at the yearbook.

Like Meenah and Damara, Meulin was alone now. When she’d tried to befriend Damara all she’d done was fangirl about shows and hang around long after she was unwanted. If that was the only way she knew how to act Meulin would stay alone for a very long time.

Pitying someone again made Damara feel vulnerable, so she didn’t. She just looked at the picture of wood-faced, stiff armed Meulin and decided that Meulin would be… easy to be kind to. Because Meulin talked enough for the both of them. All Damara had to do was nod and ask the occasional question.

Damara sighed and picked up her now cold drink. She hadn’t spoken civilly to someone in three years. Tomorrow would be a challenge.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> HAHA WOW IM SORRY THIS TOOK SO LONG...

  Ten shot glasses clicked together as Damara set them out in front of the espresso machine. The afternoon rush was over an hour away and the only customer was a girl sitting in the corner with a mountain of written notes. Damara glanced at Aradia, who had turned away from the register at the noise, and said, “Do a line with me.”

 “I go on break in fifteen minutes. I’ll pour for you though!” Aradia shrugged. She nudged Damara out of the way  and picked up the coffee scoop. “What’s the occasion?”

  “Woman took shit on the bathroom floor.”

  Aradia stopped pouring shots. “I’m taking my break, actually. Right now. I need to leave immediately” 

 “I will not clean it while you are gone.”  Damara said, pouring the two hundred degree shots into a cup with a little ice, swishing them around, and then doling them out.

 “Please?”  
  She knocked back a shot and, after all that, still burnt her mouth. “No.”

 “Please Damara!”

 Damara swallowed another two shots. “ _If you smear the shit on your body, I will lick you pretty. That is cleaning up._ ”

 “Aww, don’t be like that! I’ll give you my share of the tips.” Which, since tips were already split between the baristas, meant Damara would get all the tips. All the tips which she had in no way helped earn. It was a cruel deal.

 Another shot. “Yes.”

-

 

 Cleaning the bathroom did wonders to kill the last wisps of Damara’s nervousness over being… nice to someone she didn’t trust. Being nervous required a person to have at least one fuck to give about life, and while using half a bottle of 409 to clean the sink hers had mysteriously vanished. It was tragic.

 She did at least make an attempt to soften her scowl when Meulin came in. Damara payed actual attention to her order too- a green tea frappuccino with a few substitutions and add-ins. And she raised an eyebrow when Meulin dropped half a dozen quarters in the tip jar. Not that she was complaining  about a large tip, but Meulin always tipped big despite wearing clothes Damara knew came from Target, because they were in her closet as well.

Meulin, as she always did when there wasn’t a line, started talking about her shows before Damara had closed the register. She’s still excited over the last episode of the monster hunting show. Damara, as she’s never done before, nods along with her. “They sound very in love. How many season have they been together?”

Her English isn’t perfect, but it stops Meulin for a second and she blinks at Damara with wide brown eyes. One deep breath later and she’s her grin is alarmingly wide and she launches into a detailed explanation of every time Dean and Castiel so much as looked at each other. Damara doesn’t say anything and sets about making the drink, trying not to look too much like she’s ignoring her. Not that it matters. Meulin’s completely occupied with her timeline and doesn’t even noticed Damara stifling a coughing fit as matcha powder puffs up into the air. Meulin’s sure her ship was fucking in the apocalypse-future episode. Damara is sure her lungs are coated in a thick paste of matcha.

 “So. Do you like the monsters too? Or just hot men.” She asks when Meulin pauses to breathe. Again, Damara notes her surprise.

 She has the consciousness to look bashful, at least, when she replies, “I do! The… the shipping is purrobably why I started watching Supercatural. And why I’m still watching it. But I do like the scary stuff! The pagan god episodes are the worst. Best? And the hellhounds are soooo fureaky. I love them! Big, fursome dogs that drag people to hell befur their time? I’d hate to be their purrey but I’d love one as a pet!”

 Damara paused to scribble the name of a movie on the cup, then handed her her drink. “Watch Ju-On. You like curses.”

 “I dunno, curses aren’t really my thing! But if you think I’d like it.”

  “You will. It is very supernatural,” Damara nodded. She moved back to the register as a group of middle aged women walked in, and steeled herself for three of them to order something “no foam”. Meulin stood there for a moment, drink in hand, before smiling and waving to Damara.

 “I’ll see you tomeowrrow! And I’ll be sure to watch that mewvie!” She yelled across the room as she left. Unlike Eggnog from the day before, the women did not care about the noise.

  They all ordered five green tea lattes, each with a different combination of syrups and milk. Two no foam. One iced. Skimming the foam off the drinks was tedious, and the matcha powder was like chalk in her lungs. The women did not tip. Damara was not surprised.

 “ _Let me stick my fists up each of your holes. I will make you foam at the mouth. Then I would drink it,_ ” She wrote on one’s latte. The women took up two tables and left empty cups for Damara to clean up.  
   
Damara learned a lot about Supernatural in the next few days. As well as both of the Sherlock series, Doctor Who, and Marvel. On Sunday Meulin had a Star Trek marathon, and she told her about that too. It was annoying, but less so than most customers were. And once Eridan had come into the shop mid-fangirling and had to wait fifteen minutes for Meulin to notice him and and stop blocking the register so Damara could take his order. She’d apologized, but after ignoring him for a quarter of an hour Damara felt like it hadn’t been genuine.

 That incident had actually made Damara smile- a rare occasion, especially halfway through a shift.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> TWO CHAPTERS IN A YEAR?? IM ON A ROLL YALL. THEYLL GET LONGER AS WE APPROACH THE PLOT, BUT FOR NOW SORRY ABOUT THE LENGTH

  “How come you always pull your hair up?” Meulin asked one day.

  “It is dull. And,” Damara scrunched up her hand a few times, trying to describe the brittle, flyaway nature her hair had developed in sophomore year. “...crunchy?”

  Meulin made a face, getting some of the whipped cream on her nose. “What kind of purroduct do you use?”

  Damara shook her head, the two strands of bangs that always escaped her bun swishing in front of her face. “No, no it’s- _My hair dries easily-_ ” She stopped, mourning her lack of fluency after six painful years in Wisconsin. She was sure it was the only state where even the spanish teacher didn’t speak Spanish, and yet Damara still found herself forgetting words. Instead of stammering on, she pulled her dual hairpins out and let her hair fall down her back. She could feel its rough weight down her neck, all the way to the middle of her back.

 “Oh my god you have so much hair!” Meulin pushed herself up to perch on the counter and get an uncomfortably close look at Damara’s hair, only half a foot away. “And you’re right, it’s supurr brittle! And kinda- Oh! Was furizzy the word you were looking for purrchance?”

  “Yes! Very frizzy. Too much.”

  “What products are you using? Your conditioner is pawful! I know a really good one, and if that doesn’t work coclawnut oil is really pawerful! I mean look at my hair!” 

  Damara nodded along. Meulin was getting overexcited.

  “And it doesn’t just look good!” She grabs Damara’s hand, her looking her straight in the eye. Meulin’s face had abruptly become solemn, and Damara found herself holding her breath. Damara felt a faint blush creep up her cheeks. Meulin and her were friends, probably, after talking every day for two weeks. But this was really close. Meulin’s face was dotted with freckles and moles, most of which Damara had never cared enough to notice. It was distracting.

 “Damara.”

  “Too close. Move back.”

  “C’mon, feel how silky my hair is!”

  “What?”

  “My hair’s really soft and furluffy and you need to feel it!” Her expression had switched from serious to playful in the moment Damara had been distracted, eyes sparkling and lips quirked in her oddly feline smile. Damara shook her head slightly, mostly to clear out the strange focus she had on Meulin’s face.

Meulin smiled wider, showing the faintest bit of a toothy grin, “Please?”

 Damara shrugged. “Fine. If you are so proud.”

 Meulin pulls Damara’s hand to her hair, which was partially spread out over the counter. Some of it has even found its way onto the register. Meulin has much more hair than anyone needs. The tress under Damara’s hand is nearly ink black, darker than Meulin’s eyes. She was right, it is really silky.

  “Impressive.”

  “Thank you! I take really good care of it beclaws it’s just so nice!” She punctuates the sentence by running her hands through her hair, making it fluff up even more. Most of Meulin’s face is covered by stray locks of hair now, and her grin slips into something smaller and painfully hopeful as she looks at Damara. “Hey, we should hang out! I can show you how to deep condition your hair! And we can watch tv and eat ice cream- you like anime right? You could show me your favfurite series!”

  She looks so excited. Damara cringes a little inside when she shakes her head. “Too busy. And my anime is too violent for little girls.”

  It’s all a lie, but Damara doesn’t let herself feel bad. She is nice to Meulin at work. That is enough. She catches something flicker across Meulin’s face, but it’s replaced by excitement before she can identify it. “Ooh, really? What kind of stuff do you watch? Efurrything I've seen is supurr cute and gore-furee! What does anime blood even look like?”

  They fall back into the usual conversation where Damara says a few words, and Meulin replies with an excited paragraph and animated arm movements. There’s even more cat puns than normal. Despite Damara brushing off her offer, Meulin sticks around until the afternoon rush forces her out.

-

Meulin yells Damara's name as soon as she gets through Starbuck's glass doors. It disturbs a few kids sitting bear her, but otherwise none of the meagre midday crowd cares.

"I brought you a purr-esent!" She says, drawing out the "purr" as she moves surprisingly fast across the store to shove a wrapped box across the counter.

The box isn't big, but it is wrapped in very silver paper and topped with a frilly green bow. It's heavier than it looks when Damara steps around the counter to accept it. She is… confused to say the least. Meulin's excitement isn't anything new but a gift? They're not even friends. Damara isn't even nice to her. Despite the oddity, Damara opens the box.

She's been given a bottle of conditioner. Is Meulin mocking her? Damara growls. "Are you fucking with me?"

Meulin's smile drops. "Wh-what? No!"

Damara stares at Meulin, who is looking increasingly worried, for a good minute. Then she relents.

"Fine." She looks back at the conditioner. Extra-strength coconut miracle oil. Damara had assumed it was a cruel joke at her hair's expense but… Meulin seems genuine. She just. Bought Damara conditioner because of something Damara had mentioned three days ago.

"Will- Do mew like it?" Meulin says, rubbing the back of her hand. "You said you were too busy to come ofur so I figured I'd get you some of the conditionfur I mews for my hair. It's really strong stuff, and I'm sure it'll help you!" Meulin continued to talk, in a way that almost seemed like a nervous ramble to Damara.

"Um," she interrupts the stream, "Thank you, Meulin."

Meulin stops talking, squeals, and goes in for a hug. Damara steps back to avoid the hug, but does pat Meulin on the head awkwardly so that she doesn't seem too rude. After that it's back to routine, listening to Meulin talk until people start coming in for their afternoon caffeine, forcing Meulin to order "whatefur you think I'd like, Dameowra!" and Damara to go back to work.

-

Aradia's noticed Damara talking to the cute girl with the cat ear headband. It makes her happy, to see her coworker talking to someone without a single string of vulgarity. She sees Damara's number and "BECAUSE WE ARE FUR-IENDS" written on the cat girls cup when she makes cat girl's drink, and her grin widens. She and Damara were definitely having a long talk while they closed up, because this sounded like something _fun_.

**Author's Note:**

> my apologies for the quality, the is the first thing i have written in ages! i am a line cook, unfortunately, not a writer.


End file.
